A New Discovery

During my childhood my great-aunt Martha sent us a case of pomegranates from southern California every year at Christmastime. Imagine--a whole case of this exotic, wine-y tasting fruit. We had so many we ate them as snacks. The dark red juice stained anything within three feet, including our hands.

Pomegranates seem an unlikely taste treat at first sight. But thanks to some brave adventurer, we know the almost leathery exterior hides a brain-like structure of juicy seeds. Just this year (thanks to Eating Well Magazine) I learned how to get the juicy seeds out without staining my hands (the secret is to do it under cold water). In Vermont we see fresh pomegranates at the time of year Aunty sent them to us--December and January. I have learned that at some point they disappear, so I always buy many and proceed to freeze the seeds for future use.

Today Peter and I visited the big market near us and bought enough fruit to start our own fruit stand (it is easy to get carried away). Among our finds were YELLOW pomegranates. I was curious as to how they might compare with the luscious dark red ones I have learned to use liberally in salads and desserts and even an entree or two.

The fact is, they are structured the same way--lobes of  berries hide inside an unappetizing shell. Although the berries are juicy, their flavor pales in comparison to the very rich flavor of a perfect ripe red pomegranate. On the other hand, they don't stain your hands or clothes and they do have enough flavor and texture to make a salad interesting.

Pomegranates figure pretty centrally in folk art here. There are many pomegranate tschotkes for sale--everything from refrigerator magnets to votives to hand-painted scarves (okay, I fell for a scarf). The fruit and the juice and even syrup made from both are all very popular here and in neighboring Turkey and Iran.

If you are among the many who are puzzled about how to pick a ripe pomegranate, look for even coloring. Avoid brown spots and obviously soft spots. If you see even a smidgen of mold in the stem, pass it by. If you have too many and don't want to seed them and freeze the seeds,  pour a little melted wax in the stem to prevent mold and keep them in a cool dry place. Unfortunately this is one fruit you can't smell to verify its readiness to delight you.

On the other hand, those ripe figs are calling my name again. We enjoyed them for dessert tonight broiled and then drizzled with honey and topped with chopped walnuts. It's a treat to be here during fig season! I even learned the Armenian word for fig today--it is թուզ or "t'uz."